fund?”
“Yes, that. And with my amazing passion. A project, business, charity, movie, piece of art—none of that takes shape unless it’s backed by someone who’s deeply passionate about it. It’s that investment of passion that drives the success of any business. Am I right?”
“Yes.” A smile pulled at his mouth and lit up his stunning eyes. “You’re absolutely right, Miss Constantine.”
“I know. I’m also really good at remembering things. Maybe I’ll read all the books on how to run a successful business. Or maybe you’ll teach me since you used to be, like, the king of the corporate world?”
“You investigated me.” His face blanked.
“Just a few searches on the internet. If anyone knows how to dominate a business, it’s you.”
Tension rippled through his frame, and his finger traced the edge of the desk, back and forth, back and forth.
We stared at each other for several platonic seconds. Then the air shifted, morphed, simmered into a hot minute of hungry intimacy. I grew warm and itchy beneath my uniform, and he gave no indication of looking away.
Damn him and his assertive eye contact.
“So give that some thought, and I’m going to, uh…” I thrust a thumb over my shoulder and sidestepped toward the door. “I’m gonna go.”
He slowly straightened and stepped with me, stalking, watching with that look in his eyes that I’d become achingly familiar with. He was thinking about our kiss. We both were.
My mouth had been sucked, bitten, and licked by dozens of guys. But what I experienced last night with Magnus? That was my first kiss. A real, toe-curling, heart-aching, ruin-me-for-all-others kiss.
“Magnus,” I whispered past a dry throat and picked up my pace, reaching for the door. “We’re not doing this.”
“How does your ass feel?”
Those words coming from that mouth shouldn’t be allowed.
Technically, it wasn’t allowed by the church. But Magnus didn’t have a problem with language as long as it wasn’t used in a disrespectful manner.
“Not answering that.” I gripped the door handle.
The staccato of his footfalls spiked my pulse. I opened the door, staggering back to widen it. An escape that didn’t happen because he was already there, an arm locked around my waist, pulling me back, and a palm against the door, shutting it.
“Think through this.” I slammed my eyes closed at the solid heat of his chest against my back.
“I do.” He skimmed a hand down my arm. “Every time I see you and every second you’re not in my sight.” His fingers molded around my hips, yanking me tight to his groin. “I never stop thinking through this.”
If I reached back, I would touch him. Touch him and explore him and participate in this fleeting fantasy. A dangerous fantasy that wouldn’t end well. Not for him.
Somewhere between a painful spanking and a pleasurable kiss, I’d come to care about what happened to Father Magnus Falke. I didn’t want to be the reason for his fall from grace. But if he continued down this path with me, I wasn’t sure I would be able to resist him.
Against my back, his chest shuddered with a heated breath. Then his fingers, the featherlight pads, ghosted along the backs of my thighs where the hem of my skirt met bare skin.
Against my better judgment, I angled my neck to steal a glimpse over my shoulder.
Good God in heaven, he was an erotic vision. A lock of brown hair hung over his brow, his sensual eyes half-shut, hunger glinting in the blue, all signs of holiness out the door.
His touch was barely a caress. But as those fingers circled my thighs from behind and glided up the valley between, each point of contact was a flickering flame that burned so hot it scorched.
A throaty groan fell from his lips, so delicious and wicked I felt it between my legs.
He dropped to his haunches behind me.
Oh God. I pressed my hands against the door, prepared to hold it shut if someone tried to enter. I could lock it. Just reach down and turn the lock. But that would be an unmistakable invitation to whatever this was.
I wouldn’t encourage him. At the same time, I couldn’t bring myself to object.
Until he reached beneath my skirt and fisted the fragile lace of my underwear.
My hand flew back and gripped his muscled forearm. “Do not, for the love of Kiki De Montparnasse, rip those.”
“Kiki De what?”
“They’re three-hundred-dollar panties. My brother bought them for me and—No, wait. That sounds…” I made a face, rapidly shaking my head. “Ew! My brother’s girlfriend got